More Worth than Silver
by Yen mi Eruion
Summary: In this short scene from a spin on the classic Treasure Island, the Hispaniola makes a brief stop at a port in the Caribbean, where Long John Silver runs into James Hawkins, Jim's estranged father who abandoned the family years ago. Through James, Silver makes a startling discovery: not all of young Jim's secrets are about Flint's famed buried treasure.


It was the pocket watch that John noticed first. A great, big, gold watch on a chain, hung from a man's breast pocket; nothing of significant notoriety to look at point blank. But when the man took it up to check the hour, John noticed a thin, spidery golden _J. H._ etched onto the cover. He glanced at the watch, then at the face of the man holding it, and nearly started out of his skin: he was staring at a second Jim Hawkins!

It could only be the hand of Providence; there was no other explanation for it. Here was John Silver, minding his own business; on a job with the good ship _Hispaniola_, seeking the old treasure of the notorious pirate Captain Flint; when they had stopped for supplies at a tiny trade port near Havana, and who should the first soul he met on land again be but _the father of Jim Hawkins of that same voyage_! As old and weathered as he was, it was undeniably the man; it was Jim's face, Jim's mannerisms, down to the very buttons of his shirt collar. And the very night after Jim had mentioned his father leaving ten years before; it was Providence, and nothing less!

By now, John was openly staring; the man caught his eye, gave him a cursory glance, and sneered at him. "You want something, sir?"

John realized his mouth was hanging open; quickly snapping it shut, he gave a polite smile. "Only your name, good sir: It wouldn't happen to be James Hawkins, would it?"

The man's sneer faltered, his eyes widening. Sliding nearer, he lowered his voice to ask, "And how did one such as yourself come to know it?"

"Couldn't help but notice your lovely initials." John motioned to the watch. "Only caught it in passing, but it stirred up a memory, and so I felt obliged to ask."

"And so I must repeat my question," said Hawkins coldly. "How did you happen to become familiar with that name?"

John gave him a wolfish grin. "Why, we share a common acquaintance, through whom I've heard your story." He also lowered his voice to a menacing purr. "I know how you lived back in the home country, where you fathered a child with a young woman, whom you then abandoned to seek your own pursuits. It's through that offspring that I found it out."

Hawkins leaned back with another smile, pushing his scraggly hair out of his eyes. "Well, as far as I can tell, it's no business of yours what my pursuits are or who my offspring may be, unless you can give me a reason to believe otherwise."

"Well," said John, idly fidgeting with his nails, "it might be news to you that I'm aware you walked out on a wife and child ten years ago; yesterday, in fact. What do you make of that?"

Hawkins's face went stony, but he said icily, "I might call you daft for it, if you couldn't prove it." Dropping some coin to pay for his drink, he got up and walked out of the tavern.

Quick as an eel, John slid out after him, setting the end of his crutch in front of the man's legs. Hawkins tripped, giving John the opportunity to catch him by the elbow and half lead, half drag him into the shadow of the building; no mean feat for a man with one leg. "Now, look here," he hissed, "I've got more proof than you know. I could be so bold as to say that I've been more of a father to that young 'un than the likes of you could hope to be, and if I had any legal leverage in it, I'd be of more than half a mind to charge you compensation for my efforts."

Hawkins laughed. "And what's that to me, even if you did? Who'd believe the word of a crippled privateer and a half-witted pup against a man with a name?" He spun on his heel and began walking away.

"Then you don't deny it?" John called after him, hobbling quickly after him. "You don't deny that you abandoned a wife and son ten years ago?"

Hawkins stopped dead in his tracks, John almost running into him. When he turned again, there was a new look in his eyes John didn't like. "You're daft, you are," he said quietly, a slow smile spreading over his face. "I won't deny the wife and child, but I never had a son."

The words seemed to freeze solid in John's heart, sucking the air out of his lungs as though he'd been winded. With a last haughty glare, Hawkins walked away, leaving John dumbstruck on the corner. His whole mind had skidded to a halt, his heart thudding in his ears. Then, suddenly, like a thunderclap, he leapt forward and began loping as swiftly as his crutch would allow back to the docks.

As usual, Jane was exhausted after the day's hard work, but she was steadily acclimating to it. At fifteen, while her body might find it difficult to keep up, her wits were razor-sharp and her head all the clearer. It was clean, honest labor, too, without deceit; save, perhaps, in their overall purpose for being at sea to begin with. But that was not the day-to-day concern; as always, she could worry about that when the time came.

Two things only kept her uneasy: lying to Silver and the coxswain, Israel Hands. Silver she liked; he was friendly, helpful, and supportive in his own way, far more like family than she could remember having in a long time. For that reason, she hated lying to him, though she knew perfectly well why she must, and suspected Captain Smollet to be right in his assessment of his true intent. Still, she'd have loved to be more open to the man, if only for the sake of having his full confidence.

Israel Hands was quite a different matter. The way he looked at her alone sent shivers down her spine; as though he were trying to look through her. Since Mr. Arrow's death, she didn't like how bold he'd grown, either; almost as though there was nothing now to stop him. More than once, she'd debated asking the captain whether he suspected foul play on that end, but she didn't want to rouse suspicions that might lead back to her.

It was now almost fully dark outside; Silver hadn't yet returned from his rendezvous in town. Descending into the cargo hold, Jane went to her familiar corner and removed her shirt to retighten her chest bindings. She had to be quiet and careful with whatever she did, particularly with her more personal needs; she always had to make sure the bindings never came loose, and that she was always ready for her monthly. It might have been the knowledge that she could do it, and had done it successfully, for so long now, that she felt she was now able to grasp the basic routine of practically the whole crew; and perhaps it was for that reason that she wasn't keeping a sharper ear out and lowered her guard just enough to not be aware of the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Well, now," said a soft, menacing voice behind her, "if that don't beat all."

Clutching her shirt to herself, Jane spun about, shrinking behind a large chest, back against the bulkhead. Before her stood Israel Hands, thoughtfully stroking his chin and smiling like a shark at its next meal. "I don't wonder," he continued, sauntering casually around a barrel between them, "why we've had such poor luck with this voyage thus far. If our lot were in more capable hands, we'd have mutinied by now and have the ship comfortably to ourselves."

"Get away from me!" Jane darted behind a large crate of stores, trying to put more distance between them as she glanced hastily around for anything she could use as a weapon. "Don't try anything, or you'll regret it!"

Chuckling quietly, Hands slowly advanced. "I think you're in no position to be making idle threats; especially not to me."

There was another large trunk off to her left, with a gleaming handle protruding from it. Seizing it, she drew a long saber out and slashed it a few times in front of her to show her seriousness; but it was so heavy, she had to grasp it with both hands to keep from dropping it, letting her shirt fall to the floor. Hands stifled an outright laugh, then made a lightning-fast lunge and kicked the hilt. Her arm jarred, the sword clattered to the floor, leaving her pinned in a corner with no weapon and no escape.

"Now," Hands purred, advancing almost within reach, "if there's to be no trouble on this voyage, we can come to an understanding. I'd certainly hate to expose a subject of such a delicate nature to certain other individuals of this crew, particularly if there were anything a certain someone could do to avoid such an ugly turn of events; perhaps like…" He pretended to think a moment, then finished, "… retrieving a certain map from the captain's quarters?"

As he loomed over her, Jane kicked out as hard as she could, catching him in the chin. With a sharp cry, he staggered back, giving Jane an opening. She made for a dash to get around him, but he caught hold of her by the hair before she could flee. Throwing her to the floor, he knelt over her, the finger of one hand lightly tracing her collarbone, while the fingers of the other closed about her throat as he hissed in her ear, "We can make this as long and ugly as you wish it."

Jane choked and gurgled, clawing vainly at his face as great crimson blotches began swimming before her eyes. As she fought for air, her groping hand found the hilt of a dagger at his belt, and in a last effort she drew it and plunged it as hard as she could into his ear. Hands let out a short, strangled cry, then collapsed on top of her, his warm blood trickling into her hair.

Coughing and gasping, Jane threw him off and staggered to her feet, inevitably smearing blood over her face in the process. Hands was quite dead, completely and unmistakably; his body had already gone limp and his eyes glassy. For a few moments, she could only stand and gulp down ragged lungfuls of air. Presently, however, she caught sight of someone lowering themselves silently but awkwardly down into the hold on one leg.

"Jim?"

It was a hushed call, but she recognized it as Silver's. Finding the lantern, he took it down and lit it, then dimmed it and held it aloft as he slowly approached. Upon finding the obstacle, Silver slowly turned the corpse over with his crutch, then let out a heavy sigh. The dim light shed from the lantern gave Hands's face an almost greenish pallor.

Retching, Jane stumbled to the nearest mop bucket and vomited into it, spasms wracking her whole body with the effort. Then she curled into a ball and waited for her body to stop shaking. Meanwhile, Silver set aside the lantern, hopped over the body, then put down the crutch and crouched down next to her, peering closely at her. The scene was stark: a dead man in the hold and a girl covered in his blood. What else would he think?

"You much hurt?"

Silver's question took her by surprise, but she managed to shake her head. "I didn't mean to do it," she mumbled, her raw voice almost unrecognizable to herself.

"I know," said Silver gravely. "It was proper self defense; at least _he_ had it coming." If she thought her surprise could not be increased, he surmounted it to new heights still, for his next action was to pick up her shirt from where it had fallen and help her get it back on.

"I suppose I ought to tell the captain," she said hoarsely, suddenly aware of how thirsty she had become.

"We'll tend to that when the time comes," Silver assured her. "Can you stand?"

Swallowing, Jane nodded, then slowly got to her feet, steadying herself against the wall. Taking his crutch, Silver pulled himself up, still searching her eyes. "You know, on an ordinary voyage, this would be a bit of an awkward situation," he said, half jokingly.

"On an ordinary voyage, I'd hang." Jane avoided looking at the body, then frowned in confusion at Silver. "Did you know about…?"

Silver glanced uncomfortably down. "I… had a feeling about it."

Looking into Silver's eyes, a sudden onslaught of hysterics took hold of her. Burying her face in his shoulder, Jane leaned against Silver, trying to stay quiet while clinging to him for dear life. "I wish I'd stayed home," she sobbed. "I shouldn't have come."

"Easy, now." Silver awkwardly put an arm around her, then threw caution to the wind and pulled her close in a full embrace. "You're here now, and there's nothing to do but go forward."

Sniffing, Jane dried her eyes on her sleeve. "What'll we do with _him_?"

After considering a moment, Silver answered, "We'll weigh him down and throw him over. We can do it tonight, as he was on watch; in the morning, when the captain asks, we could suggest he's disembarked. The crew might be suspicious, but if the captain thinks he's abandoned the voyage, he won't be surprised and won't ask more questions."

As swiftly as if a light were struck, sudden suspicion seized Jane, and she glanced warily at Silver. "Will you tell him about… me?"

Silver hesitated, some emotion she couldn't name clouding his expression; he seemed indecisive on that point. That was good, Jane thought; there was still a heart somewhere in him. It also made her more wary, as it may have just confirmed the general suspicions of his intent to lead a mutiny. Nevertheless, she felt a flicker of hope when he said only, "We'll worry about that when the time comes."


End file.
